During the first of those storms, he padded the rough spots of the vest. He wore it as a “man thing”—his excuse to them—but there were many occasions when the vest kept him from being half drowned by the enthusiastic aquabatics of his companions. They began to learn how to swim with him, not over or under or impeding his movements. They could not quite understand why he had to spend time out of the water because his skin began to shrivel and slough off. He learned to qualify such matters as “man” things as opposed to “dolphin” or “sea and marine” things. He also tried experimenting with wood to carve the best approximation of “long-feet” he could; he tied these to his feet with a mixed grass and tail-hair rope. But the devices were too cumbrous and either twisted off—as he couldn’t carve a “pocket” for his feet without breaking off a piece of wood—or banged into dolphin bodies. They never complained, but he could see the darker marks on their skin, which he knew he had caused with his wooden water shoes.
His days were so full now of sea work that he almost considered turning Delky loose. It wasn’t fair to keep her standing in the cave. Declining to go with the pod one day, he used all the rope he had made to cordon off a pen for her, not far from the cave but with enough grass and shelter from the sun for her old hide and by one of the many brooks so she’d have water. As he kept a calendar on his cave wall to mark off Thread days, he could always keep her in when she might be in danger from Fall. That way, he didn’t feel as bad about confining her. With no other runners to lure her away, Delky was content with these arrangements.
He was therefore horrified to return late one evening to find evidence of a bloody struggle, bushes knocked over and trees scarred with kick-marks and no sign whatever of Delky. Searching the little paddock to discover what had attacked her, he finally found clear paw prints and knew his old friend had fallen victim to one of the huge cats. He blamed himself, and was disconsolate for days after Delky’s removal. The size of the paw prints dissuaded him from going after the beast with only a belt knife to defend himself. His father had always rounded up all the men in the Hold to go after the big marauders. He missed her for more practical reasons later on, when mourning turned to regret: he had no more of her long strong tail hairs to braid into rope.
He also had very few clothes left. It was apparent that the dolphins had not informed people of his whereabouts. There were moments, despite his full and exciting life with the pod, when he could almost wish they had disobeyed him. But then Cal or Tursi or Loki the Poet would do or say something and make him so glad that he was a part of their lives that his mood would swing up again.
The worst of the storm season passed, and he could gather some of the green shoots that supplied nutrients he didn’t get from fish or what root vegetables remained in his immediate environs. He really ought to start a garden in the glade where he’d kept Delky, he thought. Her manure would be good fertilizer. He knew what to plant and where to get the starts, and took some time off from the pod to organize his garden. That’s when he came across Delky’s tail. He almost didn’t bring it back with him. The urge to bury it as a tribute to its former owner was great, but common sense overcame sentiment and he made a bundle of the long hairs and stuffed them in the pack he had with him.
On his way back he heard the bell, heard the Report sequence, and broke into as fast a run as he dared with the precious starts and sprouting plants he had gathered. Constant swimming had improved the muscles in his bad leg so that he could achieve a respectable speed, but he was breathless by the time he reached his cavern.
There was only one dolphin pulling the bell, and that surprised him. It was also the largest dolphin he had ever seen. That should have warned him.
“I’m here, I’m here,” he blurted out, breathless, propping his pack against the inner wall before approaching the pool. “Is someone hurt? Where’s Cal? Tursi?”
“They come when I call,” the dolphin said, rearing her splendid head up, her flippers out of water.
“Are you hurt? Do you have a bloodfish?”
“Yes, I come to you to remove bloodfish,” she said. “It cannot be scraped off.” She turned on her side and eased slowly by him until he saw the bloodfish, precariously near her sex organs.
“Good thing I honed my knife, then,” he said, and slipped into the water. “Over here. And what’s your name, please?” he asked as he took three good strokes to where an underwater protuberance gave him a place to stand while he ministered to dolphin needs. “I like to know the name of my patients,” he added jovially in what he had decided was his “heal-ering” mode.
“I was called Theresa,” she said, gargling her words slightly as she remained heeled over to place herself close to him.
“That’s a very fine name. One of the originals, isn’t it?” he asked. “I’m Readis.”
“Your name is known. You call yourself the dolphineer.”
“You speak really well, Theresa,” Readis went on, his fingers, now deft at this task, assessing the depth of the bloodfish’s sucker. Often now he could get the whole thing out without severing the head first. If he punctured the thin skull at just the right point, the sucker released. He found the spot on the bloated body and inserted the thin knifepoint, and with a deft flip of the point, the bloodfish came off. With a flip of his wrist, Readis sent the parasite flying to the wall. It slipped down on a trail of blood until it lay, after two final convulsions before it expired, gape-mouthed: “I’m always glad to get rid of those vicious things for you.” He looked down at the minute hole and shoved water hard against her flank to rinse the puncture. “There, that should close shortly.”
“Thank you, that was well done, dolphin healer.”
“Oh, I’m not a healer by any means, though I can do small repairs now,” Readis said, washing his knife blade before returning it to its sheath. And he’d need a new one soon, as the salt water was rotting the leather. Whatever had the Ancient dolphineers used? More of their versatile plastics?
“I had heard of major healings?” She eased herself back so that she could focus her eye on him.
He smiled down at her, accustomed to such dolphin maneuverings. She was one big mother. And old, judging by the scars on her melon, though all looked long healed. Could she be full of calf? Near to birthing? None of his pod were carrying young. He very much wanted to be present during a birth. It was such a magical moment, especially in the sea.
“Don’t I wish I was able for major stuff,” Readis said, leaning back against the side of the pool, still supported underwater by the wide protuberance. “Maybe I could get more training … but I’d need to have more people working with me as dolphineers before I could take time off.”
“You are not the only dolphineer,” she startled him by saying.
“I’m not?” He jerked bolt upright, the sudden movement whooshing water over her eye. She blinked.
“There are dolphineers at Eastern Weyr, at Monaco Bay”—she was the only dolphin he had heard pronounce it correctly—“Paradise River, Southern, Ista, Tillek, Fort, Nerat Bay …”
“There are?” His heart sank within him. He would not be the first new dolphineer. The new Hall he had so proudly thought he might found was a dream dying in a single, casual sentence. Others had preempted his grand idea. He might as well go home now and take whatever punishment his father decreed for him. He probably wouldn’t be able to go back to school, so he’d lost that opportunity, too. He might even have lost the best chance to secure Paradise River. But he would have to make it very plain to his mother that he must swim with dolphins. He couldn’t give that up now. He was nearly eighteen now, he realized suddenly, if he’d counted days correctly. He was old enough to go off on his own in any case. Maybe, maybe, he could just come back here. He already had the makings of a small hold. And if he could prove enough land around him, under the terms of the Ancients’ Charter, he could own that. And he’d have Cal and Tursi to swim with, he could listen to Loki’s poems, and …